


Recon

by ivarara



Category: Warframe
Genre: also wanted to write a horse! so i did, tried again to write something seriousish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivarara/pseuds/ivarara
Summary: Max and Ivara are sent in on recon for a mission. As anyone could have expected, it goes slightly wrong. Also an intro to Ruckus.





	Recon

“We need to figure out how heavily guarded the area is before we do anything,” the voice booms out to the group present. “Max, you will go ahead and scout out the surroundings before reporting back. We will decide what to do once we have gotten that information to take into account.”

The attention shifts to Max, who freezes in place, stock-still mid-action. “Okay,” she utters meekly. “How soon are we going, sir?”

“As soon as possible. Go ready Ruckus and I’ll tell you where to go from there.” He turns to face her directly. “Live up to your nickname, Spotter.”  
-+-+-+-+-+-  
The snow crunches beneath the sets of feet treading through it, kicking up small clumps and leaving dragging tracks and prints behind. No matter how much of a trail is left behind, the snow and trees effectively muffle any sounds that would give away their arrival. Clumpy and wispy flakes dot all of them in an abstract pattern that remains until melting. Flakes stick to Ruckus’ mane and tail, the dark gear Max is wearing, and the entirety of Trouvaille.

The gear on Ruckus creaks and groans under the weight and grip of Max as they carefully creep forward. It’s cold enough that his panting breath creates large, noticeable puffs of air in the cold surroundings as he surefootedly trots through the thick blanket of snow on the ground. Trouvaille is huffing and puffing, alongside and in-step, despite the significantly stronger struggle he goes through to chug through the deep drifts.

Eventually, they near their destination. As they close in, they slow from the brisk trot to a slow, creeping walk to dampen any noises made by movement to avoid being seen. Ruckus picks up each hoof individually and carefully places them one in front of the other, and Trou, while still struggling, has quieted in his panting, and taken to following in the plowed trail behind the equine.

They carefully weave their way near a clearing in the surroundings over rocks and plants, to where Max can scope out the outside of the building with more ease. Ruckus goes stock-still, and Trou finally pauses in his tracks while she dismounts, grabs her rifle, and stares down the scope.

“What are you seeing? Anything?” Her comm buzzes faintly.

Still looking, she subtly responds, “So far, just a few guards outside the front entrance. There’s more MOAs than crewmen at the moment. I don’t see any cameras or security in this area.” She squints closer to the scope. “There’s enough where we’d probably be seen if we went any farther ahead.”

“Alright, that’s easy enough to handle, really. You can just catch their attention without being the center of it and pick them off as we go. You’ve done it before.”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’d be easy, too. There’s a lot of empty space and some cargo crates off to the side where I could draw them in. That way the others wouldn’t catch on; put a dent in their numbers.”

“Work out the details once you have gotten back. Do not try anything at the moment.”

“Roger that, commander,” she sarcastically responds.

“That should be enough for now. Head back to base.”  
She’d begun to meticulously packing away gear to ready for leaving when the unmistakable, robotic screech of a nearby MOA sounds out. Before she could hastily finish packing, the whirring of robotics closes in, preceding the arrival of a small group of the proxies.

Hastily, Max goes to throw herself into the saddle, but rethinks it before reaching over to lug Trou up and firmly plant him on the back of Ruckus before hurriedly grabbing the saddle horn and stepping up to mount behind the kubrow in the saddle. As soon as she’s sturdily set in the seat with one arm around Trouvaille, she quickly urges Ruckus to start the retreat. Ruckus swiftly breaks into a sprint away from the proxies before they reach the trio, though rounds from plasma rifles barely miss them as they dodge.

The gallop back through the woods is rough, made more difficult by the fact that she still has only one arm on the reins, the other still firmly holding Trouvaille in place. Their pursuers keep following, long and lanky robotic legs carrying them swiftly through the snow and trees as they attempt to flank. They’re still firing, though the running means that they’re less likely to accurately hit anything. A few scarce rounds that had happened to strike their target were fired from a distance far enough away that her armor prevents any serious damage from the blows.  
-+-+-+-+-+-  
Eventually, the sound of metallic shrieking and plasma rifles dims and stops, granting reprieve. Max slows Ruckus to a walk, then a stop. She dismounts, hefts Trou up again, and sets him down on the ground.

“Ride’s over, bud.”

Ruckus is still heaving and panting from the retreat with extra weight in the form of the other two of the trio added on to his load. She glances back up to the trail they are following. After determining that they’re close enough to walk back to base, she slips the reins back over his head and uses them to gently lead him forward while he catches a breath.

They keep steadily trekking along their previously-made way. She keeps them at a walk, although Trou meanders ahead of them. As they near their base, they all perk up at the idea of finally being able to take a quick break.

She leads the two into the make-shift base, dotted with the few other members of their squad. Somewhere amongst the group, she knows her Ivara is waiting impatiently, probably still put-off by the fact that she went on a stealth outing and didn’t require the Warframe.

It’s easy work taking off all her and Ruckus’ gear to rest. She’d done it before so many times that it was mostly automatic, reflexive. As she does so, Zus walks up to talk.

“So, did you come across anyone on your way back?”

“We were chased a bit, yeah,” she answers meekly, fiddling with a buckle.

“How far?” He presses.

“Not very. They quit before we were anywhere near base.”

He hums. “But you were able to successfully scout the area before anything happened.”  
“Yessir,” she answers as she lugs the saddle off of Ruckus, still having to strain with the effort. Zus makes no move to intervene and help, though he knows she doesn’t need it. “There’s enough guards there to notice anything suspicious quickly enough.”

“We would require a distraction, or eliminating them entirely.”

The other troops began to huddle in their semi-circle. “I can do a distraction, yeah,” she answers. “There was enough cover to be able to get in and cause a scene.” She gives a pointed look to Ivara.

“Alright. That will be the general plan. We will work out the specifics later on.”  
-+-+-+-+-+-  
The dropship lands with a subtle thud and a quick jostle.

“Now, go,” Zus snaps, nodding towards the narrow hall leading to the targeted vault. “Do your damnest to get the data without triggering anything.  
”  
With a silent nod of confirmation, she patters her way down the steel, sterile hallway into the vault entrance, the defined pairs of footsteps and clicking of nails on paws more noticeable now that they’ve separated from the carnage. Ruckus has been left back at base, obviously, so the squad consists of Max, Ivara, and Trouvaille hurrying towards the target console. They silently slip through the base, avoiding any detection with cloaking and treading lightly behind any crewmen or MOAs they pass. Zus and the rest of the platoon, making their own little commotion as a distraction for them to slip past, are far enough away to not be heard from their point.

The outermost door opens upon their approach, leading into a smaller front room. The first focus is the smaller console locking the outside door, shown by the green lighting of an unlocked door being replaced by a warning yellow instead. After a quick hack done by nimble fingers, the door unlocks with a hiss. Max throws a quick glance at her companion, who’s taken to hovering closely behind.

The vault is fairly straight-forward: guarded on each side by an unalerted crewman and security cameras and barriers. A complete circuit goes around the console’s location, where the crewmen amble uninterestedly as they patrol the area. The data console is in the center of the setup, in its own unmanned area.

“Okay,” she turns to Ivara. “Your go.” With a quick nod, Ivara promptly cloaks herself and sets off through the doors as Max and Trou stand back. Ivara makes quick work of the various security setups, easily passing through any laser barriers and right through the line of sight of security cameras. She gracefully and carefully slips behind one of the guards, passing through without a sound.

Max and Trouvaille, still outside the entire room, stand, on-guard and impatiently waiting, the ever-present possibility of being detected. Although it would be easy enough to take care of any passer-by, the commotion would likely alert the guards within the data’s room.

Trou lets out a low, warning rumble as he stiffens and stares at the closed door they’re waiting behind. Quickly, Max whips her head around to see how far Ivara’s gotten—within the smaller room actually containing the console, carefully picking away and hacking any security to transfer the desired data onto the datamass. Ivara, as if feeling she was being watched, turns around to look at the two through the translucent glass of the room. Max frantically gestures to her to hurry, nodding at the door. Ivara snaps back to the console with a single-minded focus on finishing her work as quickly as possible.  
Having successfully transferred all the data, Ivara quickly rushes out of the room, ignoring the alarms triggering and the guards finally noticing they weren’t alone. They meagerly fire off a few rounds attempting to startle her, but she simply dodges past them in her rush. Upon exiting the vault and regrouping with the other two, they brace themselves and briskly rush anyone outside, opting to just avoid any confrontation than eliminating witnesses.

A small group compiled of a mix of crewmen and MOAs greets them on the other side of the door, too startled to properly defend themselves and attack the intruders before they pass by. Max and Ivara use their shoulders to bowl a few of them over and out of the way, leaving a plowed path for Trou to follow closely behind. The rest of the run is a chase, but nowhere near being an honest threat. As they increase the distance between the group and the raided vault, the distant commotion of the others in the platoon grows closer and louder.

After zipping through another door, they enter the room whilst dodging stray rounds. Max throws up a hand to catch their attention and show that they’ve done their part, and that they’re all set to retreat and head out. Seeing the quick signal, Zus orders the retreat, troopers filing through their former targets and hallways to leave the outpost to the snowy landscape outside.

By the time the trio reaches the dropship, all the others had already settled back in and were waiting. Quickly dashing up the small ramp onboard, they skid to a stop inside. Max finds Zus and hands the datamass over.

“This is it?”

“That’s it.”

“Well done.”  
-+-+-+-

The rest of the trip is quiet, everyone relaxing after the quick ordeal. The atmosphere isn’t tense, as it would typically be after a battle; instead, it’s calm, relaxed. Everyone is comfortable with how everything came out and no serious injuries were reported. A job well done.

Max spends the trip sat in the corner with the other two, idly fidgeting with the scope of her rifle. Trou drapes himself across her lap on the seat, out cold near instantly. Ivara sits next to her, arms crossed and leaned back against the hull of the dropship.


End file.
